


The Last Time

by kathkin



Series: Summerpornathon 2012 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> <i>Arthur knows what has to be done, but he can’t face it just yet... and he’s suddenly overcome with need, need to have Merlin now, before he’s consumed. </i>Zombie apocalypse AU. Merlin succumbs to a zombie bite, and Arthur can't quite bring himself to put him out of his misery...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> For challenge 2 at the 2012 summerpornathon: 2012 apocalypse.

Arthur is too late. Merlin’s already on the ground when he get there, one hand still on his gun, the other one clutching the fresh bite marks in his side. He’s smiling, despite everything, and Arthur’s heart twists at the sight.

“I got them!” Merlin nods at the twitching, decayed remains of the zombies. “It’s okay. I got them. We’re safe for now –” he breaks off, grimacing, clutching his side.

Arthur sinks down next to him, hands shaking, and tried to get a better look – maybe it wasn’t a bite after all, maybe it was just a stray bullet – but Merlin bats him away.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t look. We should – just get this over with.”

He’s so calm, the set of his face so determined, despite the flicker of fear in his gaze, that Arthur can’t stand it, can’t bear to look at him. He pulls Merlin into his arms, buries his face in his neck – it’s cold, his skin’s already going cold – and says,

“You _idiot_ , you should have got help, what were you _thinking_.”

“There was no time,” Merlin’s voice is hoarse, shaky. “They came too fast. They got me backed against the wall. I’m sorry.” His arm wraps around Arthur, stroking his back as if trying to comfort.

And Arthur knows what has to be done, but he can’t face it just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of Merlin yet, doesn’t want to give up on him – he wants to keep on holding him, to keep him safe, and he’s suddenly overcome with _need_ , need to have Merlin now, before he’s consumed.

He kisses Merlin, one hand on the back of his neck, and at first Merlin kisses back with a shuddering sigh, but then when Arthur deepens it, touching him – everywhere, he wants to touch him everywhere – Merlin pulls back, surprised.

“What,” he says, “no, we can’t – Arthur –”

“Please, one last time,” says Arthur, wanting.

“You might get infected.” Merlin’s still holding his gun.

“Don’t care,” says Arthur. “Want you. _Please_.”

Merlin hesistates, then kisses back, clutching at him. He whimpers when Arthur’s lips press against his neck and Arthur’s not sure if it’s pleasure or pain until he says, “Don’t stop.”

Arthur pushes Merlin to the ground, gentle – he has to be gentle, he doesn’t want to hurt him, as frantic as he is – his heart is pounding already, god, it _aches_ he wants so badly – and starts pulling up the remains of his shirt. He runs a hand down Merlin’s side, where he used to be ticklish, but Merlin doesn’t squirm the way he usually does, just sighs.

When Arthur palms his crotch Merlin’s whole body spasms. “Oh god,” he says. “Oh god, it’s starting, I can feel it.” He might be in pain, Arthur’s not sure, but he pushes up against Arthur’s hand, rocking against him, so Arthur tugs his jeans open and reaches a hand inside to touch.

Merlin writhes, and Arthur grinds down against him, desperate. There’s a heat under his skin, his whole body sparking with it, and Merlin is hot and wet and _alive_ beneath him, still alive despite everything. Merlin’s blood is spilling onto his skin. The sensation is like a sick punch in the gut but still he can’t stop.

Gunshots somewhere in the distance. Merlin isn’t talking any more, just groaning, but he’s pushing up against Arthur, hands clutching at his shoulders, head fallen back against the ground.

“Look at me,” Arthur pants, taking Merlin’s face in his hands, trying to get him to meet his gaze. “Oh god, _look at me_.” His eyes are still blue, but hazy with something that’s either fear or arousal or both. He yells, body spasming again, and it’s good, it feels good, the feel of it sets Arthur gasping.

He sets the balls of his feet firm against the ground, and pushes, _pushes_ against Merlin until he feels him come, moaning the way he always does, and then he goes limp, so still that Arthur thinks it must be over. He reaches for his gun.

As he touches it, Merlin shifts, eyes opening, and he looks up at Arthur, alert and alive. “Hi,” he says softly.

Arthur swallows. “You okay?” He can’t keep his voice from shaking.

Merlin nods, then spasms again, clutching at his side. When he stops shaking his eyes are closed and he’s murmurring something Arthur can’t make out. It might be a prayer. They don’t have much time. Oh god, they’ve got no time at all.

He steels himself. He takes a breath, then another, and presses the barrel of the gun against Merlin’s head. Merlin starts, opens his eyes, looks up at Arthur, something unreadable in his gaze.

“I love you,” says Arthur, trying to keep his voice steady, then, “I’m sorry.” Merlin doesn’t answer. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nods, just once, then takes a breath and closes his eyes. Arthur turns his face away before he pulls the trigger.  



End file.
